


Red Wolf

by LadyLazarus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masks, Pole Dancing, Teen Wolf Spring Fling, and be nice to your waitresses and waiters, and take your dates out for pie, and then have cute sex, sterek, stripper!Stiles, you should always tip guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLazarus/pseuds/LadyLazarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loup Rouge is the best act at Beacon Hills' seediest strip club, and who should be there for his cousin's bachelor party? Only Derek Hale himself of course.</p>
<p>Things happen man, and springtime is the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is oddly, my first piece with smut in it. yay?! Anyway, have fun reading it and let me know what you think in the comments. This was written for day 5 of the Teen Wolf Spring Fling. yeah? YEAH!

“Just deal with it. He invited you, and you know he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t want you there. He’s getting married in the morning! Come on, Der, he’s your cousin!” Derek sighed, rolled his eyes and snubbed the toe of his boot into the gravel of the parking lot. He stood outside of a strip mall-turned-adult-entertainment-venue off the highway just outside of town. The place was well known as hosting raucous and unbelievably infantile bachelor’s parties. Derek supposed it was appropriate, if not degrading.

“Jackson’s a prick! And I don’t want to spend my time having girls try to dance out of their underwear for me. I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it and sex workers are totally valid and I’m not prejudiced or anything, it’s just… I don’t like it. I just don’t like strip clubs. It makes me so uncomfortable, Laura.” Laura sighed. Derek could hear her rolling her eyes. It ran in the family. To be fair, the last time he was in a strip club, it was a nasty place of the Jersey Turnpike somewhere for a friend that ended up drafting a contract for Derek to work there himself. The night ended badly to say the least.

“Der, really. Just power through it. Grab a couple whiskeys. Take ‘em sour if you need the sugar to get it down. Just do it for me, ok? I don’t want to listen to Lydia yap about how you ruined the night looking like a sour-face the whole time. We hardly ever visit Beacon Hills, don’t make them hate us already! I, for one, actually _like_ California.”

“Ugh fine.  But I’m not going to enjoy myself.”

“God forbid!” She hung up on him to get ready for the bachelorette party. Who really knew what the girls were up to. The lights from the multifarious neon signs flashed overhead with their glare pulsing in the back of Derek’s head as he walked around the front of his Camaro to the entrance of the building where an unruly crowd stood joking and bumping into one figure. He brightened for a slight moment before assuming his trademark nonchalance as Derek approached.

Despite everything, Derek knew Jackson looked up to him and wanted his acceptance. Ever since he found out he was adopted, there had been little instances where he just wanted to know something was genuine. It broke Derek’s heart when it showed. Jackson was still a little shitwad though.

It was Jackson’s regular gang – Greenburg, Boyd, Danny, Isaac …Erica?

“What are you doing here, Erica?” Asked Derek as soon as he was within earshot, breaking them out of a teasing, giggling mass, moshing around Jackson, whose smile was starting to break through his cool veneer.

“You think I _actually_ want anything to do with girl stuff? I’d rather check out these fine gals inside. Plus, Scott was whining about missing Allison for all of two seconds so I switched with him. He’s practically ‘one of the girls’ nowadays anyway.” Boyd laughed heartily, a deep rumble that made Erica preen. They were so oblivious of each other.

“Ah. K. Well, I’m here now, so…” Isaac turned abruptly, as nervous and uncomfortable as usual. The inside of the club was salad of lights, music, bodies and booze. Spots of green bounced off of red stripes and blue flecks appeared everywhere around big white discs, dancing against the walls and poles and bar counters. It colored people’s hair, like halos born out of the color wheel, all vying for more attention than the last. It was a feast for endless consumption.

“Hello? Whittemore party?” questioned a meek girl, obviously new at this. She held a clipboard and had a pencil in her hair. Did Jackson get a private room? He didn’t really want to have to be confined with the others for the entire time. Jackson nodded and raised his hand a bit to flag her attention.  She walked over to him so she didn’t have to shout as much.

And then threw down her clipboard.

At first nobody knew what was happening because it was just so sudden, but then her hair was down, ripped from the #2 graphite and her blouse was ripped off with her pencil skirt. Underneath were leather pants (mistaken at first for shiny leggings) and a leather bustier with studs surround the place where her nipples should be. She had a lash in her hand, and only God knows where she hid that implement.

“Good boy. Now you be quiet , or Miss Pussy X will have to punish you!” She yanked a stunned Jackson by the tie down to her waist height and sauntered off with him to a back area.

“Should I…?” Isaac began.

“Nah. I paid for that.” Winked Danny. Everyone laughed, and Derek was glad to know that this experience wouldn’t be too terrible if he got to see Jackson in the morning after a night with a dominatrix. Danny was crueler then Derek had a originally thought. What sort of schemes could he come up with to torture Derek if he gave Danny a chance?

After a bit, everyone migrated towards the bar, where the tender looked up their party name and marked them with a bracelet for an open bar (on him, Boyd said). A while passed, and after a few whiskey gingers, Danny started to move toward the gay side of the strip joint, entranced by a particularly douchey-looking blond dancer. Isaac followed, thinking he wouldn’t be noticed, but it was no surprise that ‘straight’ Isaac wasn’t as ‘straight’ as he maintained. At least, the rum was telling him that tonight.

Derek moved along with Boyd and Erica to the main floor where two catwalks jutted out from the wall parallel to each other. They sat with their drinks while a new girl was announced – ChiChi Cherry – and others exited the platform. A loud, thumping beat came on over the speakers and the girl’s – ChiChi’s – hips began to sway seductively. There was a pole right in front of where Derek sat, looking around at the other patrons of the bar. There were what you’d expect: the skeezy folk that would objectify the women who worked here, the ones that would tip only enough to garner the occasional “favor” on a tough night. But there were also just regular people around, the kind that would normally frequent the body-packed sardine nightclubs people his age would usually visit. Derek had never been the type of person to go out on the town anyway, even in New York. He’d certainly been dragged to Splash, a popular club, by Laura, but it was never anything special for him. There were always too many guys and girls trying to rub off their sexual energies onto him, and he only lasted a couple hours before he had to get out to save himself from punching someone in the face.

So far the only benefit to this place was that it wasn’t super crowded. He could actually go somewhere in this building without bumping into a minimum of four people at once. Right now though, he was plastered to a seat, seemingly trapped by the oppressive gaze of ChiChi Cherry. Her legs, muscled and toned, were bent at a fearsome angle with her pelvis sliding around the pole in Derek’s face. Her red lips, the wrong shade of red really, were pinched in an expectant smile. It wasn’t a fun smile that said “Here I am boys,” it said “$10 won’t cut it.” She stretched out against the pole to stand up and swing her leg around the pole to climb up a bit before swinging down, arching her back and spiraling down to the base until her face, upside-down, was right in front of Derek. She whipped her hair and flung herself back up at the pole.

There were a couple of hairs sticking to the condensation on Derek’s glass now. Ew.

Derek spun in his barstool a little, figuring he’d be better off visiting Danny and Isaac on the women’s side of the club. As he began to take his first step, a hand shot out from behind him to grasp his shoulder in a clawed vice-grip. He jumped a little, turned around and was met with a furious Miss ChiChi Cherry herself.

“Excuse me, _sir_ , but you forgot my tip.” She was clearly seething. Even as she held onto Derek, she tried to make it seductive, twisting her legs around melodically as if that was enough to entertain the other patrons around them.

“There goes ChiChi again,” a man grumbled a few seats away. He turned to flag down somebody and take a swig of his beer. Derek looked back to ChiChi away from the man and gave her an inquisitive look.

“I’m not into it.”

“But,” she began, “I worked that pole for you sweetie, and now you’ve gotta pay me for it.” Now he was getting angry.

“Excuse me? I told you I wasn’t into it. I’m not interested. Sorry.” He shook off her hand and walked away towards Danny and Isaac as ChiChi began shouting for him to come back. When one “Hey fucker!” seemed cut off, he turned back around to see ChiChi being hauled bodily backstage. Erica and Boyd were laughing and clinking glasses. Derek shook his head.

He found Danny stuffing a fifty dollar bill into a way-too-thin waistband on that same douchey character they saw before. He was totally mesmerized and the guy knew it. If Derek had caught him earlier, he would have told the poor boy he was being played hard. Isaac just looked jealous and annoyed. He pulled out a single and tossed it carelessly on the platform floor. The guy didn’t even bother picking it up.

“Hey Danny. Having fun?”

“Yeah…” he breathed. Hopeless. Isaac just rolled his eyes and looked at Derek expectantly. In the women’s side, the main attraction wasn’t the pole. The boys and the men that entered the floor on this side weren’t greeted with poles and catwalks, but rather a larger open stage for strip teases and gyrating dances. It was hard for the guys to dance on the poles and it seemed too feminine for them most of the time so they compensated with especially raunchy routines and gymnastic exercises.

Figuring the pole would actually be the safest location in this venue, Derek moved to the dimmed side where it was, getting out of Isaac’s hair, who was obviously tryna on Danny. Derek raised a finger to get the attention of a women walking around with a tray of drinks.

“Only got G&T’s, but I can put in an order for something else for you, Hon. Five bucks.” She popped a bubble of her gum. And readied to take a drink off of the platter.

“Nah, that’s fine. I should slow up anyway.” He handed the women a bill and added a dollar tip and she left with a smile. Tip your waitresses and tenders well, and you’ll get better, faster service. Laura whipped that into him for sure.

Why was he here anyway? Yeah, it was Jackson’s wedding, but why did he go along with all of this? He definitely wasn’t enjoying himself and he could have come up with any number of excuses. Derek was pretty sure no one would miss him if he snuck out and got home, checked his work email, cranked out a few lines for his manuscript, blacked out on Jim Beam and fell asleep on the couch. Wasn’t that what he did in New York on Friday nights to begin with?

“- Loup Rouge!” A new dancer on the floor. Derek stared at his gin and tonic, stabbing at the tiny piece of lime with the two tiny straws he was given, trying to submerge the fruit under the ice. Titanic. His life. Drinking was always the first step to a sorry evening with Derek. Or a regrettable one.

A red light appeared over Derek as a couple of bare feet entered his vision, up the step from his drink on the dancers’ platform. Someone was using the pole apparently. Derek grabbed his drink, but as he made to scoot from the barstool and leave to a less “entertained” location, he made eye contact with the dancer.

He had bright whiskey-colored eyes and they seemed to glint past the mask he wore. It obscured most of his face, shaped like a canine snout – a wolf Derek guessed, if his stage name was anything to go by. Loup Rouge apparently. He had a faux fur vest on, open in the front so his lithe, toned chest showed and the many little moles and freckles across his skin. He had broad, bronzey-cream shoulders and tight red boxer briefs.

But what made Derek sit down was his smile. A smirk really, and it shone mischievously underneath the snout and small papier-mâché fangs. It was small and transient, like only a ghost of a smile, but it was ever so different from ChiChi Cherry’s. Hers was built for revenue and sex. Loup Rouge’s was built for Derek alone.

Derek sat back down in his seat and took a long swig from his drink before looking back up to the man on the pole. He walked around it, dancing to the slower intro of whatever song was playing overhead. As it built up to the bridge and then to the chorus, Loup began to spin around the pole. He flew upwards in such an impossible way, Derek couldn’t believe it if he hadn’t just seen it happen. Loup began to descend gradual in a spiral, but stopped half-way through, positioning his body parallel to the ground and bending his legs out into intricate forms around each other and around the pole and his arms as he held onto the pole with one delicate arm. The tint of the light played on the black fur of the vest, giving it a bloody, scarlet halo and reflecting off the heady darkness of the man’s eyes.

It was fucking sexy.

With a swift kick, Loup Rouge swept his legs up to the pole so that his ankles crossed around and he was upside-down. He smiled again and flipped himself up to the pole so that for a minute he was folded double in the air, unattached to the pole entirely before crooking an elbow and a knee around the pole and out stretching a long arm to maintain balance.

By now a crowd of people were pressing against Derek’s back and against the platform. It seemed that Loup Rouge appealed to a huge audience. Men and women alike. There were hoots and hollers and wolf whistles aplenty. Loup Rouge seemed to feed off of the heightened attention. He threw his body parallel again and walked on the air upwards without shaking a single bit. He looped his legs around the pole again and dropped almost all the way to the base in a tight spiral and spun quickly a few inches off the ground so that at the height of his speed, he seemed like a flower on a stem rolled between your fingers. He was beautiful and precise and floated around the metal pole so that it melted away. The metal reflected the glaring lights and the flashes of people in the shiny surface and dissolved into the background. It was transparent – invisible – and Derek only saw Loup Rouge’s hand curled around his body, flinging himself away and back to it, dancing around him, teasing and flirting – enticing. He was magnificent and maleficent at the same time.

Derek was definitely entertained.

All too soon it ended and Loup took a short bow and turned to leave even as bills were being thrown onto the platform or trying to be tucked into his waist.

“Wait!” yelped Derek, mouth suddenly dry despite finishing the gin and tonic and even the melted ice without even noticing it. He pulled a crisp Benjamin (an accident, he’d insist later) from his wallet and held it outstretched between two fingers toward the dancer with his mouth open. Maybe he’d turn around and dance again?

Loup did turn around, but only to baffle Derek further. He kneeled on the platform, took Derek’s hand in his with the bill and with his other hand grasped Derek from the back of the neck and pulled him forward until Loup Rouge’s mouth was next to Derek’s ear.

“My name isn’t Loup Rouge,” he said, nipping at Derek’s earlobe before quickly sauntering away backstage with Derek’s bill. Derek just sat there for a moment, awestruck and dumbfounded. A hand shook his shoulder and he turned to see a wide-eyed Danny.

“What’d he say?! What did he say to you?!”

“Who?”

“Loup! Loup Rouge!! He was so ON it tonight! What’d he say to you?!” Oh. The dancer was a celebrity here?

“I don’t know. He said his name wasn’t Loup Rouge. I don’t get it,” Derek shouted back to Danny over the din of the crowd still cheering for Loup Rouge.

“Damn, that was so cool man! He doesn’t talk to anyone!”

“Danny, do you come here often?” Danny’s eyes blew wider for a second before they dropped and he blushed with a chuckle.

“Um… only some times. There’s a guy here…”

“He’s playing you Danny. You should look closer to home, you know.” Derek got up from the stool, finally able to after the crowd dissipated with no encore performance from Loup Rouge. Out of the corner, from the back rooms, Jackson came running towards them, flushed and laughing.

“Dude! Fuck _YOU_ man! I can’t believe you paid for that for me! You’re ridiculous!” He was still laughing, shirt askew, gingerly leaning on Danny’s shoulder and still giggling. At least Jackson wasn’t being a dick. Maybe he liked being spanked? Danny laughed at him and pulled him towards the main room where Erica and Boyd seemed to be betting on what guys would tip the girls.

Isaac… Isaac was on a pole?

It was time to leave for sure.

As Derek stepped into the crisp night air, clutching his jacket a little closer to himself, he thought again about that smile Loup Rouge gave him and the cryptic words.

“My name isn’t Loup Rouge.”

What did that mean? Of course his name wasn’t Loup Rouge. Who would name their kid something like that? Did it mean that Derek was supposed to find out? Did it mean he _wanted_ Derek to find out? Chase him down? Why? Because he gave him a big tip (on accident, he swears)? Derek didn’t want to buy affections. To be honest he just wanted to know who Loup Rouge was.

Derek spun back to the entrance once he had reached the first row of cars with his thoughts. Maybe he could go back in and ask that waitress if he could get the guy’s number. He could charm her if he wanted to, despite his usually sour demeanor. After all, it was for Loup Rouge. But even going through these thoughts, he caught a pile of smoke rising up into the sky from the side of the building wear a young man stood with a lit cigarette. He was wearing black and white sneakers, tight black jeans, and a tight red hoodie. Everything was tight about him, even his arms crossing his chest.

He turned an eye and half his face to Derek and smiled. It was a wolf’s smirk. Was it…? Derek walked closer, feeling light-headed with the alcohol (though he’d made sure not to drink enough so that he couldn’t drive) and feeling a weird sense of elation. Upon closer inspection, the man was older than he looked from afar, more about Jackson’s age or so, he was looking down at the cigarette, legs crossed at the ankle, back against the brick wall, hoodie covering a bare chest, half-zipped.

“’Sup?” he asked as Derek got closer.

_Play it cool. Play it cool._

“Can I bum a cigarette from you?” He huffed a chuckle and pushed off the wall, dropping his cigarette and snubbing it out with his toe.

“You shouldn’t some man. It’ll ruin a cute face like yours.” He winked.

“Do why don’t you quit? Your face is cuter?”

“Was that a question or a statement?” he answered smiling, “It makes me look cool and unapproachable. Usually. I don’t actually smoke them. I just let ‘em burn.”

“Wanna get out of here?” Wow. Way to go Derek! So original! So smooth! To be fair, he hadn’t tried to pick anybody up in a few months (more than 12…) so he was pretty rusty. The guy just smirked knowingly and started walking toward the parking lot.

“Which one’s yours?” he asked, spinning on his heel with his hands in his hoodie pockets and walking backwards.

“That one,” Derek said pointing to his black Camaro, “I know. Pretentious,” he finished.

The guy did a double take and scurried over to the car, running his hands all over the hood. “Nah man! This is so cool! I’ve never been in a Camaro! Can we drive with the windows down?!”

Derek seriously hoped he was 18. He was starting to question his age now. He laughed anyway. “Sure.”

They climbed into the car and headed out to Derek’s place, playing some mild music while the Guy waved his fingers in the wind. “So… Why do you go by Loup Rouge?”

“Who says I’m Loup?” He shifted an eye over to appraise Derek.

“Your smirk. It’s… wolfish, for a lack of a better term.”

“Well you answered your own question then, didn’t you?” Derek suppressed a grin and drove on into the inky black evening.

\---

“You mind if we stop somewhere first?”

“No? It’s your car, man.”

“Cool.” Derek took a turn off the main highway and onto a dirt road. They continued in silence until Derek’s headlights lit up a stone outcrop through the trees. He turned off the Camaro and unfastened his seatbelt.

“I used to come here all the time when I was little. And then when I was older too. It’s kinda my secret spot, you know? Did you ever have one of those places when you were a kid?”

“No.” Loup stared at Derek, looking at his eyes, noticing for the first time how tragic they were. For some reason there was an immense sadness in him. His hazel green eyes searched for something in Loup’s face, and whatever it was Derek must’ve found it.

“My name is Derek by the way.” Derek climbed out of his car without a backward glance and started off toward the rocky promontory. Loup fumbled with his seatbelt but caught up to Derek quickly just as he stepped out onto the outcrop. “One time, I thought about I almost brought a girl here. To be fair, I don’t know why I wanted to bring you here. It’s just… people you know?”

“People?” Loup shivered, stuffed his hands deeper in his hoodie pockets. Derek sat down and gently patted the stone surface next to him, not breaking his gaze out to Beacon Hills. Loup sat down, tried to suppress a shiver.

Derek shrugged off his jacket and put it around Loup so that the momentum brought the jacket all the way around Loup and he caught pulling it tight, offering a warm smile of thanks to Derek. “Yeah, people. I feel like people just come and go in such bizarre ways in our lives. Some stay though. Like my cousin. He was adopted, and it was so great for my aunt and uncle who’d tried so hard to have a baby. He just found out a few years ago and he reacted badly, but he’s over it now. He’s happy. He knows what family is. People are funny. It’s funny who you end up meeting, in a grocery store, at school, in a strip club.”

Loup looked up at Derek who had taken on a pensive look. “What happened to that girl you almost brought here?”

Derek laughed darkly. “Ah, nothing good. I wouldn’t want to put that on you at all.”

“Oh come on! I wanna know now! If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t let go easily. What happened?” Derek side-eyed him, hesitating until Loup made a ‘go on’ gesture, and turned his gaze back to the vista.

“Her name was Kate. It’s a really long story, but basically I found out she was lying and I broke it off and she tried to burn my house down and kill my family while I was at school. Her dad was pretty scary. He messed her up badly. Kate… I think she’s good on the inside but her sense of good is just really twisted around now. She’s still in therapy in a home, I think. Sometimes her brother gives me updates.”

“Oh shit… I didn’t wanna know. I take that alllllll back.” Loup said open-eyed. Derek laughed at his expression.

“Don’t worry! It took me a really long time to get over it, but I’m good now. The thing was, even though I blamed myself, in the end, nobody was hurt, Kate’s getting help, and the insurance covered the damages. Maybe she just needed to screw it up big to get the help she needed. And to get away from her dad. He died of cancer a year ago.”

“Well fuck, I mean, that’s a load to drop on a first date.” Derek whipped his head around at Loup’s words.

“Date? How can this be a date if I don’t even know your name?” Derek shifted so that he was on his back, looking up at the stars. Loup settled himself beside Derek too, tracing no particular pattern on Derek’s arm.

“Well just call me Loup for now. And it’s date because I want it to be,” Derek looked at him plainly, “If you want it to be anyway.” Derek smiled to himself as subdued as he could.

“Well then if it’s a date, we have to get pie!” announced Derek, ten times louder than before, leaping up and running to the car. Loup laughed and chased Derek to the Camaro, hopping in and buckling up.

\---

The pie was good.

The whipped cream was better. Mostly because Loup ended up shoving it all over Derek’s nose and face and from there it quickly degraded into a flirty food fight, if there was such a thing. Derek’s cherry filling (in defiance of, and homage to, ChiChi Cherry) ended up making Loup look like he had a red clown nose.

The wait staff were not amused.

\---

When they got into the car again, the mood was different. Loup slumped a bit in his seat and his eyelids drooped. He moved his hand over Derek’s on the gear shift and just let it linger.

“Light’s green, Derek.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

The drive onward was silent, but it was the contented silence that surrounded people at ease with each other.

\---

Soon they were shuffling into Derek’s home. They couldn’t help giggling to each other deliriously, overtired. They made it up to Derek’s bedroom without encountering anyone and Derek stripped into his boxers and fell on top of his sheets. Derek was so at ease, he didn’t even contemplate sex. Loup was just a welcome presence – a wanted comfort – to join Derek in his bed.

Two warm, soft hands appeared on Derek’s back and a weight settled above him, naked legs rubbing against his own naked thighs as Loup straddled Derek’s back. He began to rub circles into his shoulder blades.

“Mmfh. Feels good,” grunted Derek, groaning as Loup worked a tight knot out in his neck. Wet lips started to trail up Derek’s spine until they were mouthing at his ear, and Derek’s erection grew. Even now, he could feel Loup’s sliding comfortably between his asscheeks through the tight material of their boxers.

Derek shifted and Loup let up to give himself some room as Derek switched to laying on his back, pulling Loup back down to his hips, grinding up ever so slowly into Loup, who let out a stifled, slow moan of desire. Derek pulled him down by the back of his neck until their searching tongues connected in the space between their lips.

It was a new universe for them both, each on a cosmic journey to find the galaxies of their mouths, reaching the darkest nebulae and furthest stars. Each discovery was a supernova into the next. But universes expand, and one can never be sure they’ve found everything it contains. It was agonizingly slow for them both, but neither made a move to hurry the pace, savoring, sating, tasting.

Derek started to sit up, holding onto Loup’s hips without breaking their kiss, until he was on all fours over a reclined Loup. Their kiss became a little more desperate and their hips lost some of their rhythm, becoming ragged and ravenous.

“Off. Take these fucking things off!” begged Loup, yanking at Derek’s waistband. He snorted, rolling his eyes and shucked off his pants in record time, as Loup took advantage of the pause in Derek’s ministrations to do the same.

After that was done, things just became more and more heated. The thrust of Derek’s hips against Loup’s became heavier and shakier, frantic, while their kisses, which had become less romantic and more erotic, traveled down each of their bodies – to necks and veins and ears and jaws. Derek’s scruff burned against Loup’s lips, but the burn… it felt so _right_.

“Derek. Derek…”

“Fuck, Loup, what?”

“Fuck me. I need you in me right fucking now, or so help me God!” Derek stumbled in his thrusts, pulling back.  He reached over to his nightstand a pulled out a condom and a small bottle of lube. His fingers shook and he couldn’t open the condom package.

“Derek give it to me.” With a grunt of frustration, Derek handed over the mangled package to Loup and watched as he opened it in one quick, easy gesture. He smiled impishly. Now Derek _really_ wanted to fuck him.

Loup reached a hand around Derek to roll on the condom as Derek lifted Loup’s legs and started to lube up Stiles’ ass. He circled his hole with one finger, rubbing against it and gently pressing a finger in. Loup was really, _really_ , tight. It took some time before Derek felt comfortable with another finger being pushed in. In the meantime, Loup was whimpering and trying his hardest to press back on Derek’s fingers, fucking himself on them and trying hard not to touch himself, but occasionally failing. His arms were in constant motion, gripping the sheets beneath him and Derek’s arms and his own thighs. His back arched in beautiful parabolas as his groans echoed around the bedroom and drove Derek’s heart to pump his blood even harder.

With three fingers in, and scream of ecstasy as Derek accidentally rubbed against Loup’s prostate, Loup began to beg for Derek to “just fucking get in me you asshole!”

Derek was only too happy to oblige. He entered slowly after spreading some more lube on his cock. He pressed in, gripping Loup’s cock and eased himself in to the hilt. Derek paused, catching a breath he didn’t know was gone and Loup got quiet, so that the only sound was their breathing.

“You’re the most beautiful person I have ever met.” Derek looked up to Loup, catching his eye and the most serious expression he had ever seen on his face. Without breaking eye contact, Derek eased back to pull out his cock partially before pushing back in slowly. With each thrust, his face got closer and closer to Loup’s until their lips were brushing with their eyes open.

“You… you are the most – the most perfect man – unh- I have ever seen – and, unhhh, I don’t want to – to let you go.” Derek closed his eyes and let their lips meet in blistering kiss, building up his face, fucking Loup harder and faster and with more anxious thrusts than before.

All sense of pacing was gone. Whenever their kiss broke, the men were arching into hyperbolic curves against each other, stifling screams of each other’s name, clawing at each other’s skin, biting into searing flesh, watching sweat roll down the broad planes of each other’s body.

“Fuck, Loup, I’m gonna-”

“Just fuck me!”

Derek came, hungrily slamming into Loup’s ass, as he tugged at Loup’s cock until they were both coming – Derek into the condom and Loup in every direction possible as wild streams of cum shot in arcs over his head and landed on the sheets, Derek’s chest and his own.

Derek sighed as his climax ended, pulling out and pulling off the condom, tying it off and throwing it in a wastebasket before joining a worn-out Loup on the bed.

“You made a mess of my bed.”

“Oh shit. Sorry. To be fair, I think it was ninety percent your fault though.”

“You know what they say about making messes though…” Derek smirked, tracing a finger through some cum on Loup’s chest. He grabbed a Kleenex for the nightstand and wiped at him.

“Clean them up?”

“You made your mess and now you have to sleep in it.” Loup laughed raucously and turned on his side so that his body pressed against Derek’s, resting his head on his hand.

“Was that supposed to be smooth? I feel like you’re mixing up phrases.”

“Shut up and sleep with me.”

\---

“Shit! _Shit!_ SHIT!” Derek had just caught a look at the alarm clock and realized he’d completely forgotten to set his alarm. He had a ton of things to do and it was already 1 o’clock. Jackson’s wedding was at 4 and he hadn’t even picked up his suit yet! Also there was a warm body definitely grumbling next to him under the sheets.

“Oh shit…” Everything hit him all over again – the kisses and the tongue, and those damn hands all over him and that… his… well, his body. Loup was still in his bed and he had to get to the tailor’s. “Hey,” Derek said gently, wiggling the mass underneath the sheets, “Wake up. Wake up Loup.”

It was like snapping a bowstring. He shot straight up and gaped at Derek, taking in all of his bedhead, shirtless, pantsless glory. “Oh damn. I thought it was a dream.”

“Makes two of us,” breathed Derek. “Anyway, we gotta go! K?” He leaned in to peck at Loup’s lips and was met with a hand over Loup’s mouth. “What?”

“Morning breath! I have morning breath!” squeaked Loup. All sense sultry composure tossed away from the night before. Derek smirked darkly.

“I don’t care.” He gently pulled away Loup’s hand and kissed him deeply, tilting his head and pressing a hand to Loup’s shoulder to press him down into the mattress again. He licked into his mouth, savoring the flavor of Loup in the morning, not as gross as he must think because he was sweet and smelled faintly of Derek’s cologne. “Ok!” he proclaimed, finally separating, despite a whimper from Loup, “We have to get a move on! Shower, shower!”

Derek left a gasping Loup in the bed and dug into his closet quickly for an extra towel, throwing one to Loup before opening his door and checking the hallway for wayward parents, Laura, or another Hale family member, before grabbing Loup’s hand and scuttering down the hall to the larger bathroom.

They showered, giggling like idiots and only stopping for a second when Loup accidentally caught Derek in the eye with some bubbles and he had to wash out the burning soap.

As they were drying themselves off and wrapping the fluffy things around their waists to go back to Derek’s room, Loup turned to Derek. “So, could you just drop me off at the club then or are you way too late? I could get a cab too if you really need to get wherever you’re going?” He was genuinely trying not to put any responsibility on Derek.

“I’m going to a wedding. It’s for my cousin and he’s a dickwad most of the time. Wanna come? I could use the company.”

“What?”

“Wedding. Free champagne. Over-priced hors d’oeuvres. That sorta thing. Wanna go with me?”

“But wouldn’t I be crashing? I don’t even know the couple!”

“Don’t need to! He’s a jerk, she’s too good for him. The usual. You don’t have to if you don’t want to…”

“Nah! No, I’ll go! Thanks! I don’t really have a suit with me though.”

“Oh shit, right. Well I have to pick mine up at the tailor’s. I kept forgetting. Lemme see what they can do.” They got back to Derek’s room and threw on last night’s now-grungy clothes and escaped the eerily quiet house.

Whipping out of the gravel drive, Derek sped toward the tailor’s down in Beacon Hills, laughing as he and Loup sang loudly to the top 40, pumping themselves up.

For the first time in a long time, Derek was happy.

They got to the alterations place and Derek quickly got them sorted out. Fortunately the really nice seamstress was in today and she got Loup’s measurements and found a really nice silver suit with black trim to match Derek’s black silk blend.  They both took cornflower cravats and vests underneath. Normally it’d take a day at the very least to get Loup’s suit tailored to fit, but they had a few suits of varying sizes in stock in the back for these sorts of emergencies. It was only a matter of taking a couple places in to account for Loup’s lankiness and they were set, grabbing the right shoes on their way to the fitting rooms.

By the time they were running out of the shop, it was 3 and the wedding was a half hour away. Laura would kill him! They got to the edge of the Beacon Hills preserve and power walked up the dirt path, Derek instinctively grabbing Loup’s hand.

The experience was baffling to Loup. This guy was just whisking him away in a crazy, romantic typhoon. If he weren’t careful, he’d be totally swept up. At this point, he didn’t really mind.

They got to the clearing marked white painted bent twigs that lined the walkway in arches. An usher handed them two programs and directed them to the groom’s side at Derek’s request. They sat and Loup looked down at the program he held in his hand.

“Fuck…” he whispered, stiffening. Derek squeezed his hand.

“Oh God, yeah, I know. Jackson’s so pretentious. Those programs probably cost more than a month of my rent in New York. Ridiculous. He just can’t do simple. Neither can Lydia for that matter.

“Mmhm.” Loup nodded, ducking his head and squeezing Derek’s hand back. They were seated near the front so it was easy not to hide his face from the majority of the guests who might be craning their heads around to see when Lydia would be coming down the aisle.

At the beginning of Pachelbel’s Canon, Everyone turned almost in unison. Lydia’s wedding party came down the aisle, floating across the path that was lined with long thatches of green ferns. No one had been allowed down the center before them so that the greens weren’t trampled before Lydia got her turn to come down too. And when she stepped forward and started down the longest walk of her life, everyone cooed and ahh’d and giggled with that shared happiness from seeing someone else’s love be put down into vows.

“Stiles,” whispered Loup to Derek.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Lydia’s always been really stylish. She always looks great. She’s awesome for him.”

“No-” Loup began, but as Lydia came near to them, he started coughing and had to turn away from the aisle to stifle his choking and not disturb the other guests who gave him side-eyes. Derek patted him on the back a bit and rubbed soothing figure eights on his shoulder blade.

The audience sat and the ceremony continued, beautiful and majestic. Later, the word people would most often use to describe it was “BIG,” but it was gorgeous all the same. Derek kept feeling like people were staring at him, but when he looked around it just looked like everyone was looking up toward the couple being married. Loup was still stiff though and didn’t fidget like was prone to do.

Since when did Derek notice that he did that sort of thing? He was so nervous. Maybe Derek shouldn’t have pushed for him to go with him to the wedding. Maybe he felt like Derek spent too much on the suit.

As formal as they were, as soon as they were off to start down the aisle again, Lydia stopped them to take off her shoes and together they ran down the aisle laughing like giddy fools. Everybody burst out laughing together and for the first time during the entire celebration.

“There’s a bigger clearing with a huge white tent we’re having the reception in down the path further,” informed Derek, pointing to a side way that continued off from their side of the copse.

As they moved with the tide of people, they heard shouts from behind, like someone really wanted to yell, but was restraining themself, “Stiles! Stiles! Wait up!” Loup cringed and spun quickly, holding onto Derek’s hand still, and walked backwards, waving his other hand above him.

“Hey Scott! Allison! Hey!”

“Stiles?” questioned Derek, unsure. Loup turned to him, quickly, wincing and rushed out his word with squinty eyes like he expected Derek to yell at him.

“It’s my name. I tried to tell you but you thought I said stylish. And I wanted to tell you and I know everyone here and Scott’s my best friend and I didn’t know Jackson was your cousin and I said I wasn’t gonna show up because Jackson was an asshole to me even though Lydia apologized for him and now I’m here and it’s awkward because now you know who I am and it’s just weird and I’m sorry and NO ONE knows I’m a stripper on the weekends so pleaseeeeee don’t tell them!”

As Scott and Allison caught up, a shocked Derek suddenly busted up in sobs of laughter at the whole situation. Loup – no, Stiles, looked rumpled and completely flustered and Allison and Scott looked completely confused.

“That’s… That’s rich, _Stiles_ ,” emphasized Derek, settling an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

When had Derek gotten romantic and mushy?! Just yesterday all he could manage to do was grumble and frown and somehow a night with this guy had completely changed him.

“Uh… What? Stiles, who’s this? And why didn’t you sit with us if you were gonna end up coming?” asked Scott, trying to decide whether he needed to be the best friend thing and beat up the new hot friend to defend Stiles’ honor.

Whatever honor was left after Derek fucked it out of him last night, that is.

“Uh, ha ha… This is Derek. Jackson’s cousin. I just sorta… ended up here?” Allison started laughing to herself at Scott’s completely confused expression, but soon all the lines connected in his head and he threw an accusing finger out at Stiles.

“You! WHAT! YOU GUYS!” Derek smirked to himself and Stiles shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably as they walked on.

“Shut _up_ , Scott! So what?”

\---

The reception was as elegant as the ceremony itself, and Lydia and Jackson didn’t seem to spare any expense. The champagne was amazing and the whiskey was even better. Laura was creepily avoiding them, sending disgustingly complacent smiles Derek’s way. They said hello to everyone that came to them and they just talked and made observations about what people were wearing and the ridiculous things they were doing at the reception. They made bets on who’d go home with whom for cliché wedding sex. Soon the expansive dance floor that was set up on the grass under the tent was filled up and Derek had enough liquor in him to psych himself up to dance.

“I _know_ you can shake it, Stiles. Come on!” He looked at the dance floor warily as if it would bite him.

“I just don’t want to intimidate the rest of the guests,” said Stiles, twisting his nose up into the air as if he were some regal prince.

“Nope!” Derek proclaimed, grabbing Stiles’ hand and pulling him to the floor.

They danced and the tunes shifted from the classics to the top 100 to club remixes as the night aged, bringing with it soft paper lanterns and torches and for some blessed reason, fireflies. As they all danced together, bodies against bodies, Derek and Stiles clung together, gyrating in perfect motion – a binary system of two brilliant stars. The fireflies above them circled each other and flew in erratic shapes, consecrating the party below in its happiness and joy.

Eventually a slower song came on overhead and the crowd filtered out between the couples and the haphazardly dancing 20-somethings. Stiles started to dance his way to the edge of the floor and leave, but Derek caught him by the elbow.

“Leaving me so soon?” his eyes reflected the torchlight and Stiles found himself breathing shallowly.

“Just thirsty. And I don’t like slow songs.”

“How do you not like the pace of any song entirely?”

“I don’t know how to slow dance.”

“Oh.” Stiles thought he was being let go when Derek dropped his hand from his elbow, but it was only to get a firm grip on his hand and spin him into Derek’s embrace, “I’ll teach you then.”

Stiles smiled.

Stiles was grossly awkward at first, but as he felt along, felt Derek’s tight muscles underneath his palms and felt their sweaty bodies bounce together when Derek pulled him in, he started to enjoy himself and to get the rhythm. They were a frighteningly good combination. At one point, Stiles exploded into giggles and Derek didn’t last long either.

“I love you.”

And they spun

And spun

And spun.

**Author's Note:**

> SO HOW DID YOU LIKE IT?! Sorry about the ending, I wanted to leave it up to your imagination. also I wanted to let you guys know that you can bid on a commission for me to write a story for you to benefit AO3 and OTW!!!!! YOU SHOULD TOTES DO IT BECAUSE WE LIKE THIS ARCHIVE, RIGHT???? So check me out [HEREEEEEEE](http://ao3auction.tumblr.com/ladylazarus) Also, you can find me on Tumblr as [FoolProofPoem.](http://foolproofpoem.tumblr.com/) Love you guys!


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